


I’m Going to Let You

by aidennestorm



Series: Someone Like Me Will Love Someone Like You [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Come Marking, Early Act 3, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grey Warden Stamina, Jealousy, Justice (Dragon Age) Positive, M/M, Mentioned past Isabela/Anders, Multi, No Anders without Justice, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Possessive Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome, minor exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/pseuds/aidennestorm
Summary: Turns out, even Fade spirits can get jealous when someone else flirts with one of their lovers.Hawke happens to like it.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Anders/Female Hawke/Justice (Dragon Age), Anders/Justice (Dragon Age), Female Hawke/Justice (Dragon Age)
Series: Someone Like Me Will Love Someone Like You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176680
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	I’m Going to Let You

**Author's Note:**

> A note on pronouns: I use "they' to refer to actions taken by Anders and Justice in tandem/agreement, and "he" if Anders or Justice specifically are in control in that moment. :)

The third time Isabela leans into Hawke’s space during Wicked Grace night, back arched invitingly with her ample breasts pressing against an armor-clad shoulder, Anders sees red. 

Or, Fade-blue, more like—Justice clamoring for attention as he surges vehemently and demands, **_How dare she believe her claim is valid?_ **

Anders grits his teeth and tries to soothe their shared knot of irate disapproval as he plays his next card. _This is just how Isabela is, love. You know Marian would never stray. Besides, I have no right to be jealous._

A memory flashes between them: a younger Anders kneeling between Isabela’s bare, splayed thighs, her tunic hitched around her waist and head thrown back in pleasure, sparks dancing through his long, nimble fingers—

 **_Marian is not my concern,_ ** Justice argues, flinching away from the recollection. **_The pirate is acting inappropriately._ **

_She’s flirting. And we are not going to shame her for it—_

“No, no, _this_ one,” Isabela coos, plucking a card from Hawke’s hand and putting it on the pile. “At this rate, I’ll have to give you some _private_ lessons.”

 _“Hawke,”_ Anders says sharply, abruptly standing from the bench and scattering his terrible hand to the grimy floor of the Hanged Man. Justice simmers, smug and satisfied, beneath his skin; Anders resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Isabela purrs, dark eyes bright with mischief, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Mage business,” he retorts. “Urgent. **_Hawke.”_ **

It’s Justice that emerges at the end, an echo in their words that makes Hawke’s brow rise, but she tosses her cards onto the center of the table anyway. Fenris frowns at him and Varric hides a smile behind his tankard as Hawke says blithely, “I’m always ready to serve the cause of mages.”

Anders resolutely _does not_ blush. 

“Should I be involved, then?” Merrill asks curiously. Isabela laughs wickedly as Hawke untangles herself and leans into the reach of Anders’s waiting hand.

He steers them through the main floor of the tavern and up the stairs, bypassing Varric’s room and turning into an empty hallway. Justice brushes an impression of _safe-alone-secure_ across the nape of their neck and Anders doesn’t hesitate—he abruptly halts and shoves Hawke face-first against the wall, capturing her wrists in one hand and pinning them in place.

 **“We don’t share,”** Anders and Justice snarl, in perfect agreement.

“Mmm, I love it when you two get possessive.” Her head falls back onto their chest, exposing her neck invitingly. Her skin is warm, welcoming, _intoxicating._

 **“Were you allowing that display?”** Justice demands, shifting their weight to further trap her.

“Did you like it?” Hawke teases. She squirms beneath them— _deliberately,_ they immediately realize, enticing friction on the growing hardness beneath their robes.

Their breath stutters in their chest. **_“Temptress._ ** **You walk a dangerous path.”**

“Guess you’ll have to set me straight.”

They laugh in Hawke’s ear, low and rumbling as they squeeze Hawke’s wrists, working to free their cock with their other hand. Her grin broadens as she starts to speak, but they abruptly release her and clap a hand over her mouth, their own teeth meeting her throat and biting hard enough to draw a touch of blood.

Hawke whimpers and leans back against them, leans into every soothing sweep of their tongue against her broken skin. But she doesn’t move to stop them so they continue to lave at the spot, breath hot against her throat, then spit into their palm before they take themselves in hand. 

**“Exquisite,”** Justice groans; Anders loses himself in the feel of Hawke’s trembling, her little moans of arousal, the steady stroke of Justice’s glowing, crackling grip. 

“Feels so good, loves,” Anders rasps. “Oh, _Hawke,_ I...”

 **“Yes,”** Justice growls, nipping at Hawke’s throat. **“Show everyone she is ours.”**

Anders works their hand until he’s biting his lip and choking back a scream of pleasure, Justice roaring inside them in satisfaction as they spatter Hawke’s back with their release. Hawke gives a muffled whine, rubbing against their spent, sensitive length. 

They release her mouth but Hawke doesn’t say a word, only turns in place and wraps her arms around their neck to drag them in for a desperate kiss. She opens them up with her tongue as Anders shakes and holds her just as desperately.

“I _need,”_ she finally gasps, tearing at their robes. “Anders, Justice, _please.”_

They help Hawke pull off her greaves and gauntlets and drop them with a careless clank to the ground, her hands over theirs as she shoves her trousers to her ankles. They groan when she grasps them firmly, spreading their release down their rapidly hardening length; she parts her legs and they step between her thighs, seizing the soft flesh of her ass and hefting her against the wall.

Hawke guides them into her welcoming heat, a slick, tight pulse as they drag her again and again onto their cock. The jolting rhythm is too loud, too obvious, too open, but they can’t stop, he _can’t stop,_ he’s frantic and hungry for her, hungry for Justice electric in his spine; her armored heels dig uncomfortably into his back but they can’t think of anything else but _taking_ her—

Her head falls back with a thunk as she shoves her hand between them, teasing their stones and the root of their cock before she touches herself, her face spasming in delirious bliss. “Maker, _yes!”_

They cling to her, hips working ceaselessly as they fuck into her, until her voice cracks and her mouth falls open on a silent sob, until her entire body shudders apart, until they spill deep inside her and every stammering beat of their heart cries wordlessly _love, always, mine, forever._

Anders is still panting when they carefully lower her to the ground and extricate themselves, tucking their softening cock away. _This is not yet just,_ Justice whispers under their skin, and Anders eagerly drops to his knees and expectantly looks up into Hawke’s Fade-blue eyes.

“Don’t clean me up too much,” she murmurs. “Want to feel you two inside me all day.”

 ** _“Marian,”_** they groan, surging forward to press their mouth to her cunt. They lap at their seed and her slick until she’s squirming against them, one hand tangled in their hair and another digging into their shoulder to keep steady. Their mouth is insistent, demanding, and she grinds against them until she starts shaking again, a high, needy moan swallowed behind the desperate wobble of her lips. They don’t stop until she convulses against them and her legs give out, sliding to the floor in a sated heap.

“I should have Isabela do that more often,” she drawls, flirtatious even while breathless. Anders chuckles and presses their forehead against hers.

 **“We would prefer not,”** Justice grumbles; it sounds nearly _fond._

Hawke’s laugh rings in the empty hallway.

As she starts to put herself to rights, Anders and Justice help—carefully strapping her back into her armor, making sure her precious, too-human body is protected, _safe._ She hums knowingly and unwinds her red scarf from around her neck, wiping down faces and hands, before turning in place. “Presentable?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

Anders’s eyes flick to the faint streaks on her armor. Purses his lips in thought—he doesn’t _want_ to lie, and Justice would never allow it anyway, but the _thought_ of her openly carrying them...

Her eyes dance merrily and she loops her scarf around his neck, fingers lingering around his throat as she arranges the fabric. “There. We match.” She offers her arm with a blinding smile. “Shall we go scandalize our friends, loves?”

He returns the grin, and they take her arm.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my drafts for at least six months, and FINALLY the smut gods decided to help me finish (heh). Hope you enjoy my favorite OT3. <3


End file.
